Goliath's web
by broody
Summary: Everything you ever wanted to know about spider mating habits but were too afraid to ask!
1. The Four Horsemen

Who didn't think there must have been something going on between Sebastian and Claude after the infamous grope in the water? Features various fictional demons, all of which are copyright to their respective creators (though for one of them the expiry date has passed quite some time ago).

Part I.

Claude Faustus would never ever admit it but he was in a pretty foul mood. Well, to be precise, he would never ever admit that he had moods at all to start with, placing the probability of the previous admission somewhere between the asymptotic and absolute zero.

The acid rainbow colors constantly shifting on the intricately carved walls did little to improve his disposition and neither did a mug of questionable beverage that the barman's sixteenth hand, if it was indeed a hand, placed in front of him, its owner not even bothering to spare a glace at the customer. Claude stared resolutely at the oily swirls on the surface of his drink trying his best to ignore the other visitors of the establishment. It wasn't that he generally disliked the company of his own species; he just rather preferred those among then that were already tangled in one way or the other in the proverbial web of his. That was hardly the case here, and did not make him particularly comfortable. Not that he would ever admit it, of course.

One would wonder why Claude chose to come to the place at all, to which, if he were suddenly inclined to be honest, he would gravely reply that it was a result of misunderstanding. He was, after all, nothing but attentive to his current master's wishes.

"May plague rot her greedy guts!" the man had exclaimed after a particularly heated argument with his aunt. Claude saw to it that it did*****. It was hardly his fault that master had forgotten to add "but only after she rewrites her will in my favor" now, was it?

He had found it exceptionally hard, however, to make his contractor see it that way. The man had been positively livid, screaming obscenities and hurling anything he could reach at the demon, while Claude tried to keep the attitude of polite attention. Inwardly he was quietly bored. At least until the moment his master managed to calm down slightly and spat out: "Go to hell! And that's an order!" Claude hadn't been expecting that and unfortunately there wasn't much he could do except mutter "Yes, my Lord" and excuse himself.

Which had brought him, by a fairly straight route, here. "The Four Horsemen" was located on the very outskirts of hell but he did not feel that it was necessary to venture any deeper to comply with his master's order. There were just a few too many demons further down who would be very, very happy to see him indeed******. He would have to wait here until his contractor's wrath passed, which, given man's needy nature, would hopefully happen soon enough.

A mostly human-shaped demon, wearing a hopelessly old-fashioned cloak with red lining, manoeuvred himself into the empty stool next to him.

"Here we go," Claude thought with a tinge of exasperation.

"What seek'st thou here, Claude Frollo?"

Claude had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. The guy should really get out once in a century. "It is Claude Faustus, nowadays."

"Dost thou endeavour to slander me?" the other intoned menacingly.

"Of course he doesn't, he just has zero imagination." chimed in a smug newcomer, promptly occupying the empty chair on the right. "Consider it a tribute". He winked at Claude. Well, at least, you could listen to that one without cringing.

"For thine own sake I hope thou mean'st it thus," Mephistopheles muttered darkly.

Claude turned to the snake demon, who was predictably dressed to a T, noting sourly that the fabric of the insufferable creature's jacket was finer than that of his own. "And what do you seek here, Crowly? Got yourself discorporated again?" Crowly was one of the few demons outside the soul-eating fraction that spent most of the time among mortals*******.

"It was a result of a... a... errm, of a fierce battle with the adversary." Crowly shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Claude snorted, suspecting that the "fierce battle" really meant that Crowly got smashed with that angel again and forgot that trains had been invented.

"What about you, Claude, did your latest master finally get fed up with you?" The snake demon recovered pretty fast.

"I have a day off," Claude explained shortly. Crowly shot him a look that suggested that he did not believe it for a second, but left it at that.

For the moment it seemed like they had exhausted the topic; and since neither of them were going to ask Mephistopheles what he was doing there****, Claude went back to staring at his drink, which by now had developed a pair eyes and was glaring back at him.

A loud cheer from the crowd, which sounded more like a whole forest inhabited with rather unpleasant creatures trying to outcry each other, distracted Claude from the staring contest and brought his attention to the small stage to the left of the bar.

A needle-thin heel, sharp and glittering, was digging into the soft tissue of what was not a stage, as Claude had first thought, but a huge leaf growing from the branches half-sunk into the bar's walls. His gaze crept upwards, along the midnight-black leather encasing a slender calf, the preternaturally pale skin of the exposed thigh and stopped right on something that strongly reminded him of … well, a feather duster. Except unlike the one he used at the mansion, this one was composed of stiff black feathers and was currently describing little circles in the air along with the very shapely organ it was attached to. For some reason Claude found the sight utterly mesmerising.

To his right Crowly gave a low whistle of approval.

"Well, isn't that an improvement!"

Claude chose not to comment on the how obvious the statement was. Compared to Big Berta nothing could possibly constitute a decline*****.

The dancer spun around, balancing expertly on the tip of the heeled boot, came to a halt facing the audience and bent down to give the leather-clad ankle a sensuous caress. Claude found himself staring into the eyes the color of drying blood glittering though the fringe of raven hair. Little devils of amusement danced in them along with the marvelous hint of a challenge, and…

The dancer straightened, giving the audience a chance to admire the hard lines of his body before they were obscured by a shower of black feathers.

"I have to concede he hath a truly fine backside," Baritone to his left said.

It was hard to argue with that. A single shiny feather landed next to Claude's mug. The drink had given up on staring at its potential consumer and was slowly creeping up his sleeve. Claude caught it absentmindedly and started to chew on it, ignoring the muffled squeals of protest. His gaze was trained on the figure that continued to swirl around the impromptu pole created by the interwoven vines. Maybe it was not a complete waste of an evening after all…

TBC

* While it was not _exactly_ the plague, the effect produced was very much the same.

** That is to say, happy to see him dismembered, his various limbs put on stakes and slowly roasted to tenderness.

*** Crowly also preferred to actually inhabit a human body rather than morph his own into a replica of one.

**** For fear of getting a half an hour lecture on the organization of the universe.

***** No, you don't want to know.

A/N: As you can imagine this is going into rather M-ish direction in the next chapter.


	2. The Two Demons

Disclaimer: I am not responsible for any brain damage resulting from reading this. Proceed at your own risk!

Part II

Claude spat out the remains of his drink, the bone clattering faintly against the wooden bottom of the cup. His amber eyes narrowed as he carefully scanned the bar; his gaze traveled past the scantily clad lady with stunning red hair and her emaciated companion; the two marginally anthropomorphic figures covered with barnacles; an empty two-legged table; and finally found the spot on the wall where the interlacement of the branches disappeared below the floor surface. The corner of Claude's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

The cacophony of screeching and ratting noises behind him finally subdued somewhat and Crowley stopped his abominably out-of-tune whistling. The last of the black feathers drifted past and settled between a pair of luminous jars on the bar display. The dancer inclined his head pressing the leather-gloved hand to where his heart would have been, had he actually been human in anything but form, in a mock gesture of appreciation. The public erupted into a fit of clattering applause once again. The statuesque black-clad figure covered the distance between the improvised stage and the bar in a single leap, landing with a soft click of the heels. Skillfully avoiding several outstretched hands, wings and antennae, the dancer swiped the drink from the barman's wooden grasp and settled down on the bar counter.

"Say, that was very impressive," Crowly's carefully guarded pronunciation slipped slightly at the end when his eyes met the blood-coloured ones. The dancer smirked.

"Wouldn't you consider giving a few performances at the Cleveland establishment? I am part-time manager there," the snake demon explained, producing a neatly printed card, "For a good compensation, of courssse, Mr…?"

"You can call me Mr. Michaelis." The voice was pleasant with a just hint of metal in it.

"I have heard of thee, thou who takest the appearance of a scrounger bird."

The demon called Michaelis turned his head sharply and looked at the offender with mild distaste. "Fine words from someone whose real form is that of a lapdog," he said.

Mephistopheles bristled visibly and opened his mouth to protest, but Crowley interjected quickly: "Gentlemen, please. We are all allies here, in a manner of speaking."

The arguing pair stared at him incredulously. Crowly coughed uneasily but continued: "I mean we share the same cause, don't we? Which I am sure could benefit you greatly, Mr. Michaelis." He handed the card over to the crow demon. "You know how it is with humans, you just need to give them a push in the right direction…"

"I am deeply honored by your proposition, Mr. Crowley," the irony in the other's voice almost palpable, "but I am afraid I have little interest in such activities outside of…" he indicated the surroundings, "…here."

"Well, that certainly is a shame," the snake demon tried not to sound too disappointed, "isn't it, Claude?" He turned to the chair on his left, only to discover that its occupant was gone. "That's strange. I swear he was here just a second ago."

Mephistopheles muttered an ancient curse whilst trying to dislodge a small swarm of miniature reddish insects that were crawling intently up his cloak. Michaelis put his mug down and smiled pleasantly. "It was nice talking to you, gentlemen, but I am afraid I must be off." He bowed slightly and started walking in the direction of the bar's gates with the same graceful swagger. Crowly watched his retreating figure with a wistful expression on his face.

* * *

The portal should have been no more than ten paces away, but for some reason he seemed unable to reach it. Instead the small passage stretched forward indefinitely, the soft green glow ahead becoming more and more distant. The sound of his heels became muffled as if the stone tiles had suddenly become overgrown with moss, which, upon closer inspection, they had. He threw a glance backwards and, sure enough, the bustling entrance to the bar was nowhere in sight either. What a most curious distortion.

The walls seemed to be mutating as well, the stone vines suddenly sprouting leaves of such twisted and mangled shapes that one felt justified in questioning the gardener's mental health. He touched the wall cautiously, almost immediately realising the mistake, as his fingers came in contact with something extremely sticky. Before he had a chance to move, thick white threads burst from the surrounding walls and enveloped him, gluing themselves to every square inch of the surface they could reach. His first instinctive attempt to free himself only resulted in making the entanglement even worse. This evening certainly wasn't going in the direction he expected…

A dark figure that was successfully hidden in the shadows up till now took a step forward, revealing a solemn looking young man in neatly pressed servant's attire. The golden eyes flashed vermillion for a moment as he examined the captive appraisingly: the crow demon certainly presented a very satisfying picture, a pretty mess of long limbs and shiny feathers suspended helplessly in the web, ruby eyes in a perfectly proportioned face regarding him with disdain.

"Do you know how spiders make love?" he asked gravely.

The other demon arched an elegant eyebrow. "Is this the place where I am supposed to say, "I am in trouble, aren't I?""

Claude leaned in and breathed quietly, "Yes".

The contours of his body were losing their sharpness, dissolving slowly to reveal something much more sinister. Additional limbs sprang from the back, bent in ways unimaginable for any warm-blooded creature; the human eyes were no longer the only oculars on what could hardly qualify as a face anymore. It was framed with several pairs of antennae, mandibles and other less than pleasant-looking appendages, ceaselessly grating against each other with an annoying high-pitched noise.

Michaelis watched with a mixture of fascination and disgust as he – _it - _came closer, the hairy legs spreading above him to take a firm hold of the web's threads. Smaller appendages started to explore the trapped demon's body slowly, leaving a shred of black leather here, a red rivulet there. The sensation was not entirely unpleasant, although the disconcerting countenance hovering above him was doing little to set the mood. The free pair of the arthropod demon's limbs that still retained the anthropoid shape, was, on the other hand, occupied with something else – the steady stroking of the lower area on the segmented abdomen. The creature let out a shaky sigh almost inaudible over the screeching-squealing-whining noises; its gaze awkwardly split into eight segments boring into the crow demon's face with preternatural intensity. Before Michaelis had time to contemplate the peculiarity of the other demon's behaviour, the appendages began to move faster, more erratically, more desperately, the copper-oozing gashes appearing faster than they could heal now, making him squirm involuntarily and tug against the restrains, until the irritating whining noise stopped abruptly and more white threads sprang forth, enveloping the creature's hands. Not the webbing this time, he was fairly certain.

The quite-literally-a-spider-now demon paused, then, in a smooth motion, brought its soiled hands to the suspiciously bayonet -shaped limbs placed on the sides of its head. A mere second later the hands were spotless once again as if sucked clean by some invisible force. A smile, more than a little disturbing on this caricature of a face, appeared and Claude whispered, the words echoing eerily with the beating of thousands of tiny insects' wings:

"Now comes the fun part."

"Something tells me there is not much fun in it for me," the crow demon retorted, starting to pull discreetly at the web's threads again.

"That isn't going to work," the mandible framed smile widened while the dagger-sharp appendages next to it aimed neatly for the captive's stomach. Michaelis had a hard time suppressing a scream as the thing plunged into him without restraint; the feeling of the blood seeping out mixed with that of something slowly leaking into the wound …something tickly and squirming and horribly _alive_.

Once the realisation hit the crow demon, the anger as sharp as his lengthening talons flared, igniting the hell flames that made their way from the pit of the stomach to his eyes, illuminating them with a deadly glow. The black feathers started condensing into half-solidified mist, swirling, morphing into shadowy coils. They engulfed the limbs of the hybrid creature above him, snapping a few of the net's cords in the process. Claude managed to look stunned for a second, the insect features wobbling and shifting into a more human-like countenance. With a single freed hand the crow demon wrenched the offending appendage out, wincing in the process, and said, voice dripping with sweet poison: "I may not be an expert on spider mating habits, but at least I am aware of the reason you had to tie me up first."

The miasmic tentacle captured Claude's face and pulled it closer.

"Want me to tell you why?"

TBC

A/N: Why are you looking at me like this? This is a fairly correct description of spider lovemaking, believe it or not. Just in case you aren't disgusted enough yet you can google the picture of the goliath spider. Isn't it lovely?


End file.
